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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236939">You will set us free</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CroftersGamer/pseuds/CroftersGamer'>CroftersGamer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Prophecy [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bendy and the Ink Machine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BATIM, Bendy suffers some abuse, F/M, Hallucinations, Henry needs therapy, M/M, Other, everyone does, first story of a collection, joey is a evil but everyone knew that, tags can change sometimes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:01:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CroftersGamer/pseuds/CroftersGamer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry knew the loops could be changed, he had done it once or twice at some point. But after a very close encounter with a demon, he may find out that he can change more than a few loops.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lacie Benton/Bertrum Piedmont, Sammy Lawrence/Norman Polk, Thomas Connor/Allison Pendle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Prophecy [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Splash of ink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His heart pounded inside the chest, heavy steps running around the insane quantity of corridors inside that maze of a studio. Relief came in the form of a small stall, legs and lungs aching were completely ignored with that sight, the ink slithering and dripping from the walls and ceiling as the demon came closer and closer to his body was his motivation to keep running towards safety.</p><p>The old cartoonist had to yank the door open and throw himself inside, slamming the wood on the chaser’s face with a loud cartoony splash noise.  </p><p>A painful gasp of pure relief punched its way out of his lips, head, and back banging against the wall, he survived one more time.</p><p>But something seemed odd.</p><p> </p><p>The ink demon, a poorly made imitation of his so beloved creation, who normally would just shake its head out of the dizziness of banging face-first against a pure wood door and turn its back to the station, shambling to the nearest pentagram to disappear through the wall for another hour or two, was now staring at him through the small opening in the station’s door.</p><p>Black thick ink dripped from its pale face, a grimace formed on the iconic smile’s place, Henry gulped thickly, heart pounding so hard in his chest that he felt like passing out right there.</p><p>For a, so presumed, mindless creature, the demon seemed to understand quite well its situation, groaning and growling with a deep echoing voice and incoherent squeals of ink mixed together, inky fingers tracing the borders of the opening in the wood, as if examining the material to understand what it was made of, not like an animal at all.</p><p>Not even blinking, the man trapped inside watched his demise on its discovery of wood and the concept of doors, praying to any God that would hear him that it didn’t learn how to open the station. Another, quite embarrassing, squeak escaped Henry’s throat when the demon turned on its only good heel and limped away from the station, giving a false sense of release from its mission of getting the cartoonist until just plopped its frail body on the floor, back against a nearby wall mimicking Henry’s own position inside the miracle station. Oh, it was waiting for him.</p><p>─ You got to be kidding me… ─ Pure fear turned into annoyance, if the creature killed him for once, it would be just another respawn on the near statue and everything would be okay, but caging him inside the station like an animal in its corner was just cruel.  ─ That’s it? Are you going to keep watching me? I can do this all day!</p><p>Sincerely, Henry wasn’t sure if the demon couldn’t understand what he was saying or if it just chooses not to listen to him at all, but he at least could try. ─ You’re a prick you know that?</p><p>Another deep reverberated noise came from its throat, trailing chills down the man’s spine. He shut his mouth after that, frowning and just glaring at the demon.</p><p> </p><p>The fake Bendy stared at him for a few minutes, losing interest very quickly, Henry was just boring for the demon’s taste. Long drippy arms wrapped around its skinny knees, like a child in the cold waiting for their parents to come back for them, but this time, Henry knew more than anyone that no one would come for them. No one cared enough to come.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hours went by and the two kept their places, the cartoonist, inside the uncomfortable wooden station, legs painfully squished in between the wall and the man’s own torso in the worse sitting pose that his back could support. The demon, on the other hand, lost its guard after the first two hours, head tilted forward as if staring at its own frail self, the grimace slowly dismantling into an almost neutral expression, Henry didn’t even know it could do that.</p><p> </p><p>Henry suppressed a growl, from boredom and from the ache on his back, he closed his eyes, trying to at least fall asleep and pretend, like always, that it was just a really elaborated nightmare, and that it would be over as soon as he woke up in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>His brown eyes snapped open, he was laying in an ink lake, head aching like if a nail had been hammered to his skull and pulled out with part of his brain. So much pain that he couldn’t think, barely even breathe. The dark tendrils of ink covered his neck and chest, binding him to the floor. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Help!” Henry tried to yell, but his lungs were filled with ink, only gasps and chokes came out.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Head darted around when a scream of pain echoed his drowned pleads. A blonde silhouette not far away from him was the cause of it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It took a second for the painfully full head of the cartoonist to identify Sammy Lawrence. The man has kneeled on the ink, head slumped back while he screeched bloody murder, dark inky tears dripping down from his blackened eyes. Henry wanted him to shut up, the pain increased with each pain-filled scream that came out of the music director. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Instinctively the cartoonist looked away, to his left this time, another silhouette was there, a strong body on his back on top of a platform of hardened ink. Norman Polk’s screech was different, it was filled with pain as well, but it was just static, robotic-like if it wasn’t human, not anymore. His head wasn’t ahead anymore, the projector it had in its place was slumped backward out of the platform, like if the platform only offered support for body with no support for the head machinery. Henry sobbed, tears coming down his own face, the creature no longer human was screeching in pure agony, just like Sammy, its heavy projector was bending its poor neck, stretching the inky skin at breaking point, like a spider web line holding an entire bowling ball for dear life. One of its hands was slumped by its side, held by tendrils that come out of the inky lake with force no one could understand, while the other clawed desperately at the broken speaker embedded in its chest and its poor painful broke neck, each screech seem to beg for mercy or death. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Henry couldn’t breathe, the pain was just too much, everything was so loud, his eyes darted from side to side, he wanted out, needed out. He finally noticed where he was, the dark around him has deemed enough to show the dozens upon dozens of silhouettes around the ink, some human, some not, Woman and man, all in pain, screaming for help, for freedom, everything Henry couldn’t give them. His eyes closed when it became too much, he cried as loud as he could. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>His head banged against the wall of the station and Henry woke up, chest pounding painfully, head spinning.</p><p>Shaky hands went to his own face, cleaning the tears that went down his cheeks, he grumbled softly when the sobs didn’t stop.</p><p>Then he went quiet.</p><p>He wasn’t the one sobbing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The prophet and the prophecy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The prophet is fascinated with Henry's "powers".</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Henry leaned softly against the door, a creak of the wood making him wince. The demon's head springs up, staring at him directly from his sitting place. The ink went down his cheeks, tears perhaps thought Henry. Those drops seemed waterier than the gooey regular black substance he saw dripping from the creature’s forehead and eyes before.</p><p> ─ Bendy? ─ The man asked tentatively, but of course, he didn’t receive words as an answer.</p><p>The ink demon grimaced and growled at the name, forcing himself up before limping towards the miracle station, hand ready to burst the door open. When something happened.</p><p>The cartoonist was sure he heard a voice, a whispery call from somewhere and by the looks of it, the demon heard as well. His still extended hand trembled as if hesitant to follow the voice before retreating, the creature gave Henry one last look, a scared and quite human look, before sinking down into a puddle of ink.</p><p> </p><p>The loud heartbeat that followed it everywhere slowly faded away, the dripping ink from the walls seem to dry out, leaving the man completely alone again.</p><p>─ Joey… What the fuck did you do this time...─ He mumbled to himself. A shaky hand slowly pushing open the door from the station. Eyes examining the place he used as a hiding spot for hours. </p><p> </p><p>The room he got himself into wasn’t very familiar, only God knows where he turned to come out right there in the hurry to run away from the demon, he was almost sure he never got inside this particular one. The miracle station was positioned on the farther right corner, the door marked with the black ink that splashed from Bendy. A few instruments scattered around and an old piano with missing tiles and wood eaten away by the bugs resting close to the door.</p><p>─ This is Sammy’s… ─ Mumbled the cartoonist again, touching the dusty violin. ─ Definitely.  </p><p>He turned away to get out, but gasped and jumped back when he saw the three creatures on the door. ─ Shit…</p><p>The butcher gang observed the man’s movement for a second, one looking at the other trying to understand how he ended up inside that one room before marching forward to attack him, mumbling weird incoherences.</p><p>Without a weapon, Henry was powerless against them, so he had to make a run in circles to stay away from them, shoulder banging against the frame when he bolted to the corridor, the three deformed creatures right behind him.</p><p>Henry tripped over a loose plank on the floor, going face-first in a puddle of ink, He turned around, hands desperately wiping the substance from his eyes when he saw the blurred silhouette cutting one of the ink creatures in half with an axe. The other two soon followed with the same fate.</p><p>Panting and confused, Henry looked up at the man marching towards him, Bendy mask covering his featureless face.</p><p>─ Samm- He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, a strong thrust from the axe’s cable right at his face and he was out in a minute.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>When he opened his eyes again, he was in the ink lake again, this time though, managing to get on his feet again, trembling knees with the sudden cold of the place. </em>
  <em>The loud mix of screeches and cries coming from everywhere was still distracting, but now he could see what it was happening, the ink slowly absorbed most of the figures far away from him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>For a moment, something strong seemed to talk inside his head, call him down into the ink. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Come with us...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“There’s still room…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It will never set you free…”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Henry shook his head, trying to ignore the voices and making an effort to step forward in the thick ink, towards the closest person around him. Sammy Lawrence. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>─ Sammy! ─ He tried yelling, but nothing come out, he was mute. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The silhouette wasn’t listening, the blonde man was kneeled on the ink, crying and screaming in agony, completely oblivious of the cartoonist calling his name. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>─ Sam…─ A barely breathed mumble came out of the man’s lips, hand-stretched to reach for the music director. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Blue eyes suddenly locked with his, Sammy had an expression of pure terror. ─ My lord…</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Gasping for air, Henry jerked up wincing when he felt the pain of being tied to a chair. Looking around a bit, he was inside the recording room in the music department for sure. </p><p>A groan slipped past his lips, headache as if a truck has hit him, Sammy was a lot stronger than he thought.</p><p>─ How did you do it? ─ Came the question from behind him, he tried to turn his head to see.</p><p>─ Sammy…I…</p><p>─ How… Did you do it? Tell me! ─ The music director came to view, axe in hand, already pointing it at the man’s throat. ─ You spoke to him, he looked at you, he understood what you said, how did you do it?</p><p>Henry sighed. ─ I don’t know, Sam… I just did, I said something, and he looked at me, it wasn’t even words…</p><p>With a loud bang, the axe went to the floor when Sammy started pacing around, mumbling incoherencies that Henry’s headache didn’t allow him to understand. ─ Sam… I swear I don’t know how I talk to him.</p><p>─ It’s fascinating, I’ve been trying to speak to the demon for so long, and you managed in the first try… ─ He chuckled softly, suddenly kneeling in from of the cartoonist. ─ I knew you’re were special, my little sheep… We all have been waiting for your arrival…</p><p>─ Look, I’m not that special, and It’s not my first time talking to him… He does that all the time.</p><p>─ Since I saw you for the first time, I knew there was something important about you, something that I couldn’t quite understand… I felt drawn towards you, like a memory of some sorts… This prophet had never felt like that before.</p><p>─ Oh boy… This is another weird loop...─ Whined Henry, eyes closed for a moment. ─ Sammy, I’m not anything for you to worship as you do with Bendy, alright? Please listen to me.</p><p>─ How do you know my name? I had never told you that…</p><p>─ I have done this before. ─ Henry tried to emphasize each individual word, anything to get through Sammy’s obsessed mind. ─ We are trapped in a loop, that’s why we are all stuck in here, we worked together in this studio years ago. </p><p> </p><p>For a moment, the music director went silent, staring at Henry with his uneasy and uncomfortable looking mask, giving the man chills and hope at the same time. Then he chuckled softly, head shook slightly as to deny these thoughts. ─ You speak nonsense, my little sheep. You are a piece of the puzzle, part of the prophecy, he will set us free and you are the key for that, I’m so sure…</p><p>The cartoonist groaned again, rolling his eyes and watching as the man walked away, grabbing the axe and mumbling nonsenses as it moved to the door.</p><p>─ Can I at least get untied? This isn’t very polite…</p><p>─ We will speak of that in the morning, I have things to attend to, we will soon be free of this prison, we need to be prepared... </p><p>Another sigh escaped Henry’s lips when the door closed, leaving him alone again. ─ It’s good to see you too, Sam!... Asshole…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Finally another chapter! I'm sorry for taking so long! </p><p>Comments are very welcome and it helps me a lot!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. sick black ink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Joey has a job for Bendy, but the ink also has something for him. <br/>Henry and Sammy have a ... interesting conversation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, I'm sorry for taking so long, I'm a college student and writing is hard. Anyway, I hope you like it! </p><p>Also, I would like to say thank you to all the amazingly supportive people in the comments, you all are the reason I write! </p><p> </p><p>Warning for hallucinations, weird creepy voices, a lot of crying from Bendy and Henry getting a kiss from the floor.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Joey’s office was cold, thought Bendy, but not just any type of cold, it was a chilling, almost supernatural type of coldness, to the point it was impossible not to shiver. The Ink Demon hated how its solid, inky form felt, but it didn’t have any other choice than coming here.</p><p>With slow, dragging steps, its limp was so painful to the point of numbness. But it managed to walk inside. </p><p>— Finally! — The demon flinched at the loud voice.</p><p>Joey Drew himself, younger than the fake “friend” that would talk to Henry at the start and end of every loop, staring from his leather chair, behind the table filled with papers. — What took you so long?</p><p>The ink demon had to control itself to not grimace at the sweet, venomous tone in his creator’s voice. — Busy. — It managed to mumble.</p><p>— Oh, of course, you were. — The man always had a great way of finding out lies, but he kept a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, the creature felt sick and terrified at the same time.</p><p>A smooth movement and Joey stand up, he wasn't exactly the tallest in the room but his posture made him intimidating. His old cane abandoned in a corner of the room, he didn’t need that anymore. — You know why I called you earlier than normal?</p><p>The demon shook its head.</p><p>— I have a job for you. A very important one I may say. — A warm hand grabbed the demon by the forearm. The touch sends an explosion of warmth through the ink creature’s body, filling it with a so necessary dose of relieving affection but it was drowned by the fear of what comes next.</p><p>— You think you can do that, Bendy? — The name, oh, it hated that name. But it nods. </p><p>— What… To do? — Slurred the ink demon, receiving a sour look from its creator, poor creature wasn't really a nice thing to look at, or think about for that matter. </p><p>— Grab me the good ones, bring them to the machine, I have a little experiment to do and I think they will be just perfect for the job.</p><p> </p><p>The demon didn’t understand well the reasoning behind this, but it never could, Joey wasn’t a man who would waste time explaining his plans for a deformed abomination like 'Bendy'. With a nod, the man smiled again, the hand going from its forearm to the horns, so like a soft caress but at the same time so cold. The creature’s legs almost embarrassingly buckled under its frail self anyways.</p><p>The words came as a reality check.</p><p>— Don’t mess it up. You have a keen for doing things wrong and I don’t admit mistakes this time.</p><p>With a nod from the creature, the man let go of its horns, walking back to the chair and ignoring the existence of his own creation once again.</p><p>The demon sank down into a puddle of ink, not bothering to say goodbye, its creator didn't care to answer anyway. The ink spat out the demon in a random office, only Joey knew where in this forsaken Studio, but this time, the ink didn't leave him. Voices flooded its mind once again, the ink speaks in the worse way possible, and, by all means, the ink creature is trapped with it as much as everybody else.</p><p>Its bad knee buckled under it, making the creature fall to the floor and curl up on a corner, claws going to hug its legs close to the chest. Air escaped its non-existent lungs, it tried to breathe, make it stop acting like it was suffocating, but it didn’t work, as if the entire studio got depleted of oxygen out of the sudden. Inky tears flooded its impaired vision, stomach turn like a pan of stirred soup, he couldn't just cry there like the pathetic little error it was. </p><p>A trembling claw scratched its bad leg, the aching of the member was a second of relief from the rest of the pain, the other claw franticly trying to rub its knee, desperate to feel just a little bit of warmth in this ocean of ink. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Are you afraid, Bendy?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Afraid?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Bendy?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>— I'm not... — It shivered with the voice, claws going to its horns, pushing the head down and trying to get rid of it. — ... Leave me alone!</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Don’t be afraid Bendy. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Don’t be.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>We are one of the same.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>One of the same.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>— Stop… No... —  The voices echoed loudly in its ears, banging against the walls of its skull like a parasite. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>One of the same, Bendy.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Wrong like us. Wrong like them.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Wrong.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>— Stop it… — It cried harder, tears flooding down, hitched painfully breathing. —  Please...</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>You’re wrong. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Wrong. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Wrong, Bendy. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p><strong><em>— </em></strong>Leave… Me alone….</p><p> </p><p>The room started to change, walls swirling with black ink, oozing for every corner, and creeping closer to the frail victim. The ink demon tried to curl closer to the wall for no avail, it didn't want to touch the ink anymore, it was already so loud as it is. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>We will never let you rest.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Never rest. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Never let you leave.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Never leave.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>A strong rot smells surrounded its body; holes seeping blood and ink carved their ways to the floor and ceiling, dripping on the demon and around it. Deformed creatures, similar to lost ones creeping inside the room with him, moaning and wailing in an agonizing mix of voices.  intense almost bloodthirst crawl towards the crying demon.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <strong>
    <em>Come with us, Bendy</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Come.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Come here.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>— Please... Leave me alone! —  It cried once more, gasping for air, clawing at its own body trying to escape. it couldn't stop the visions and it couldn't stop the voices, the room was spinning so fast it could barely make out the creatures coming closer.</p><p>Big oozing hands reached for the demon's face, open mouth filled with too many teeth so close, the demon whimpered covering its face and body in a fetal position on the floor, chest pumping so loudly it was drumming in its ears and making the pain worse.</p><p>A few seconds later, everything went quiet, except for the ink demons gaspings and soft cries, it was so tired and so scared it didn't dare to open its eyes for a few minutes. It was alone again, no ink, no voices, just the same old cold room.</p><p>— Lord Bendy? — A soft voice called, making the demon flinch, snapping its head towards it.</p><p>A lost one watched from the doorway, shiny yellow eyes watching the pathetic state of their lord. The demon couldn’t bear the attention, turning away for a second before showing its grinning teeth with an angry growl, the poor ink person didn’t miss a beat, running away as fast as they could, away from the abomination in the floor.</p><p>It couldn’t stay around, not if it didn't want more attention, the last thing it wanted was more lost ones finding themselves here to watch the ridiculous shame fest that it was the ink demon right now.  Claws slowly reached for the wall, frail arms supporting the creature into a standing position, legs shaking., still panting from what it felt like a marathon without a winner. The voice of its creator lingered inside its head once more, there was a job to be done and it has to be now.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Sammy Lawrence came back for the cartoonist after what felt like a week, it was just a few hours. If the mask didn’t hide his inky face, he would be comically surprised about the cartoonist’s situation.</p><p>Henry, still tied to the chair, had managed to topple himself face-first on the floor below him in an attempt to escape, he seemed to have given up with whines and growls slipping his lips with his aching body.  </p><p>— And I’m the man crazy here, you say. — Mumbled the music director, Henry struggled to look at him but Sammy could say he looked embarrassed of its situation.</p><p>Grabbing the chair and pulling it back into position, he kneeled in front of the man. — I have to say, you aren’t exactly what I expected, not much of an honorable prophecy.</p><p>— Sammy, I’m not a proph-</p><p> </p><p>— Shhhh...Listen to me! — Inky fingers grabbed the man by the chin, the other hand softly shushing him with a finger before caressing over his cheekbones, mask so close to his face that he could smell the ink breath. — You are hope, my little sheep, oh so good hope. you must understand that? you do, don’t you? We have been here so, so, so long, it’s a miracle to have this chance... This hope, we don’t feel that in a very long time, and we will grasp it with tooth and nails, you like it or not.</p><p>— Look, is not like I know what I’m doing Sammy! It isn’t so simple. I tried everything to get out of here but never worked. — He sighed. — There’s no escape that I know of… And definitely, no more hope for any of us if things keep going the way it's going...</p><p>The grasp on his face tight before finally letting go. Sammy steps back, head-turning around before his body followed, giving soft and silent steps around the recording room, Henry felt uncomfortable. </p><p>— listen... There are many things we believe in this studio, Henry.</p><p> </p><p>— Oh, so you do know my name.</p><p> </p><p>Sammy ignored, slick hands marking the old, dusty instruments with inky fingerprints. — We believe in demons; we believe in angels… There’s no reason for us not to believe in prophecies, I am a prophet after all.</p><p>Henry couldn’t contain the roll of his eyes, Sammy’s head wasn’t the same after so many years down into this prison, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the old egocentric, superiority complexed Sammy Lawrence that would never let himself fall so deep into this madness if the ink wasn't involved. But he couldn't help himself from noticing how similar some things were between the two versions of his old friend. — Sammy… Please try listening to me, I don’t know how to save everyone, I can’t even save myself!</p><p> </p><p>— Then figure it out! — Henry flinched in his chair. Fingers crept behind Sammy's mask, rubbing his fingers on his face, down to his throat and up to the wooden mask again, as if trying to make sure it was still there. His movements were shaken, unsteady like an addict out of its substances. — You are our hope, my little sheep, and we will do this, we will help him set us free… You are our last chance...</p><p>The music director grabbed his weapon, trembling fingers tightly around the handle, with a fast swing, the blade hit the chair’s behind, cutting the ropes that kept the man in his place.</p><p>The old cartoonist flinched forward, away from the insane man with an axe, heart tightly pounding in his chest, showing that even in this horrible situation, Henry couldn’t rip away the fear of death. Sammy watched the scrambled chair for a second, hands still on the axe before turning the lifeless eyes of his mask back to the cartoonist.</p><p>— I think we should visit the angel. — Whispered the music director, voice whispery as if that was a secret between friends if everything was just another normal day in his routine. — She may have what we need to understand this prophecy.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did you like it? have any tips? ideas? Please comment! I love to respond to any comments and it makes me warm and excited to write more!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All the characters are from the game Bendy and the Ink machine! </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Also comments are very welcome!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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